J. Jance - Fire and Ice

“Yes,” Joanna replied. “That’s correct. Jaime is one of my homicide detectives.”

“In view of that, I was hoping I could ask you to let the family know.”

“Of course,” she said at once. “Absolutely. You don’t even have to ask. I’ll handle that right away.”

The moment I get off the phone with you, she thought.

“The information I have also makes mention of the victim having a son,” Beau continued. “Is there a chance he could provide us with any information about his mother?”

Joanna suspected that might be true. It seemed likely that Luis had known more about his mother’s lifestyle and her unsavory friends and associates than he had ever admitted to anyone, including his uncle or his cousin. Joanna also understood that’s what homicide investigators do-they backtrack through the victim’s circle of family and friends trying to find clues about what happened and why, but Joanna’s first instinct was to protect Luis Andrade from everyone, including J. P. Beaumont.

“He might be able to help you,” Joanna conceded, “but not right now. First he learns his father is dead, and now his mother-”

“Wait a minute,” Beau interrupted, pouncing on that bit of information. “You’re saying his father is dead, too? What happened to him?”

“Luis’s father, Marco Andrade, was a small-time drug dealer. Detective Carbajal learned this morning that Andrade was murdered in prison several months ago.”

“I’ll need the details on that as well,” Beau said. “The two cases could be related.”

“Yes, they could,” Joanna agreed. “And I’ll have Jaime be in touch with you about that as soon as I can. I’ll have him call you, but not until after the family is notified.”

“Of course. Do you need my number?”

“No, thanks. If this is the right number, I can get it off caller ID. But tell me about what happened to Marcella, and why you are involved.”

“My agency is investigating a series of homicides that all have the same MO,” Beau said.

“Which is?”

“It’s ugly,” he said. “We have a total of six young female victims. We suspect that some or all of them may have had connections to prostitution, although Marcella had evidently been making some effort to get out of the business. All of them were bound and gagged, wrapped in construction tarps, and then set on fire.”

“While they were still alive?” Joanna asked.

Beaumont sighed before he answered. “Possibly,” he said. “And in every case but Marcella’s the victims’ teeth were forcibly removed at the time they were killed.”

“In order to make identification more difficult?” Joanna asked.

“Exactly.”

Joanna was appalled. And she hated hearing about these horrifying details. What she hated even more was knowing they would have to be passed along to Jaime so that he in turn could give the devastating information to his parents and to Marcella’s son, Luis.

Joanna retreated into her office far enough to collect a piece of paper and a pen. “When did all this happen?” Joanna asked. “And where?”

“We haven’t established a definite time of death. At the time she disappeared, Ms. Andrade was living in Federal Way, Washington, under an assumed name. She had evidently appropriated the ID of one Marina Aguirre, who died as a child. She was waiting tables in a local Denny’s. As I said before, I think she was trying to put her past behind her.”

That may be a comfort, Joanna thought. But not much.

“Any idea when the body will be released?” she asked.

“We’re not talking about a body,” Beau cautioned. “Skeletal remains only. Her family needs to be prepared for that. As far as a schedule for releasing the remains, her family will need to discuss that with the medical examiner over in Ellensburg.”

He gave her the names and applicable phone numbers.

“And where exactly is Ellensburg?”

“A couple of hours east of Seattle on I-90.”

“All right,” Joanna said after writing it all down. “I’ll talk to Jaime, and then I’ll have him call you.”

When the call ended, Joanna stood in the quiet of her office for a moment, gathering herself. Out in the living room she heard the sound of easy laughter, but she had moved far away from the world of bachelor party fun and playing poker. She went back to the kitchen looking for Butch, who was grabbing a fresh set of sodas. He took one look at her face and got it.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“How are you at Texas Hold’Em?” she asked.

“I stink. Why?”

“Because Jaime and I are leaving,” she said. “I just found out that his sister’s been murdered. I have to go tell him.”

Joanna went back into the family room and beckoned for Jaime to come with her. He put down his cards and followed her into the hallway. “What’s up?” he asked.

“It’s Marcella, Jaime,” Joanna said with a catch in her throat. “I’ve just received a call from a homicide detective in Washington State.”

“A homicide detective.” He repeated the words aloud and in the process seemed to come to an understanding of what they meant, even if he didn’t want to. “She’s dead, then?” he asked.

Joanna nodded. “Murdered.”

The naked shock on Jaime’s face left Joanna momentarily unable to speak. She knew that look from the inside out as well as all the hurt that went with it. She had been there herself on the day Andy died.

After a few moments, though, Jaime’s cop mind switched on. “Where?” he asked. “When? What happened?”

“I don’t know the details, but she’s evidently been dead for several months,” Joanna replied. “Her skeletal remains were positively identified through dental records late this afternoon.”

“I’d better go,” Jaime said. “I need to tell Luis and my parents.”

He made as if to turn away, but Joanna caught his arm. “Wait,” she said. “Let me change my clothes. I’ll go with you.”

“You don’t need to…”

“Yes, I do,” she insisted. “Please.”

She handed him the piece of paper with her scribbled notes. Jaime studied it for a moment. Before he could say anything more, she pressed her cell phone into his hand.

“Use this to call the detective,” she said. “I put his number in this. All you have to do is hit ‘send’ twice. That should take you straight to Mr. Beaumont. I’ll be right back.”

Joanna hurried into the bedroom, where she stripped off her jeans and the bright green top. Next-of-kin notifications were tough, but this one in particular required a certain protocol and decorum. One of the grieving family members happened to be a teenager who was about to lose his second parent. Such an occasion called for nothing less than a full-dress uniform.

As Joanna went about putting on her uniform, it seemed to her as though she was also putting on the job. She had zipped up the pants, had fastened the Kevlar vest, and was buttoning her shirt when the name she had been searching for finally came through.

“S.H.I.T.!” she muttered aloud, just as Butch came through the bedroom door and closed it behind him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “If you’ve lost a button, change shirts. Cussing about it isn’t going to help.”

“I wasn’t cussing,” she said. “I just remembered. S.H.I.T. is the name of the outfit in Washington, the one J. P. Beaumont works for. It’s called the Special Homicide Investigation Team.”

“Oh,” Butch said. “I see. Beaumont. Isn’t that the same guy you worked with a couple of years ago?”

Joanna nodded and hoped to hell she wouldn’t blush again. Fortunately she didn’t.

Butch walked over and waited patiently for her to finish with her shirt. Once she had fastened the last button and tucked in the tail, he gathered her into his arms for a long hug.